Gaijin Fighto!
by Azkas19
Summary: While being stuck on assignment at Oriental Town, Barnaby found himself acquainted with the infamous ex-yanki gang leader Tetsuko Kaburagi. AU, no superpowers, no HeroTV. Rule 63 Fem!Kotetsu/Bunny.
1. Prologue: Yanki Meets Gaijin

Barnaby knew what it was like to die.

And knew what it was like to come back to life.

His eyes flew open, mouth taking in a juddering breath when a pair of hands quickly rolled him to the side, patting his back as he vomited sea water.

He began to cry. His tiny chest ached. Someone had draped a warming blanket around him.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay, kid." A pair of amber eyes swam into view. "Where are your parents?" He didn't recognize the face, nor the arms rocking him like a baby. Somebody started to wail, and suddenly Aunt Samantha was beside him. She fiercely hugged him, tears streaming down her face. Why was she crying?

People he didn't know were talking, milling around waiting for someone to die. Nobody could resist a good piece of drama. "Shoulda been more careful… the railing's dangerous…lucky…"

He didn't understand what those words meant. All he wanted was to look at the seagulls.

Aunt Samantha picked him up and carried him back to the hotel. A doctor came to check on him. The man kept repeating that he was very lucky to be alive. Barnaby wondered what happened to the person who saved him.

The next day, he saw her again. His saviour. She was fourteen, and she was already too tall for her age. She hunkered down and smiled at him, asking how he was feeling. She then jokingly told him to grow up real fast so that they could get married.

"Oi, Tets. Quit harassing the kid." It was a boy who said that. The boy who was with her yesterday. He loved her, but it'd be aeons before he'd muster up enough courage to tell her.

She made a face and stuck out her tongue at the boy. For some reason, Barnaby found himself laughing.

She ruffled his hair, murmuring: _"Kawaii, neh?"_ He had no idea what she was talking about.

By the time they both left, Barnaby was clutching the shell bracelet she gave him. He was waving. Waving at the girl with laughing amber eyes and sun-kissed skin.

It'll be years before he ever saw her again.

But by then, he'd already forgotten about her.


	2. Gaijin in a Small Town

Maverick pursed his lips in displeasure.

He knew what Yankee meant. But he's damn well clueless about yankis. He didn't even know the word existed until the project manager came stumbling into his office, trembling and babbling about a crazed monster tossing him into the river and threatening him with a steering lock.

That silly man had always been prone to nerves, and valiant attempts to calm him down with hot tea – topped with a generous tot of brandy – failed spectacularly. He'd kept repeating the phrase 'Demon Yanki' over and over again. From what Maverick could gather out of his random mumblings, the people of Oriental Town weren't happy about the planned development of a shopping mall in their area. Claimed that it would rob the local merchants of their livelihood. So they sent a representative to argue the case on their behalf. Turns out that person was nothing more than a gangster with a penchant for violence rather than words.

Well…he knew a thing or two about dealing with hooligans.

These protestors were starting to become a problem. They'd already made a lot of noise over the last project. Investors were getting concerned over the risks involved and were talking about pulling the plug. It took a considerable amount of PR stunts and palm-greasing to make them change their minds. Maverick was starting to lose patience. It's time to bring out the big guns and cow those damned country bumpkins back into silence.

Picking up the phone and buzzing his secretary, he said: "Bring in Mr. Brooks, please. And find out just what 'seppuku' means."

* * *

Barnaby did his homework on the plane.

Turns out there wasn't much readup to begin with. This was just another classic case of people fighting the inevitable march of progress. They'd even did a writeup in their little newspaper, claiming that capitalists and greedy conglomerate bastards were snatching up their lands, transplanting homes, and building ugly structures that pollute the environment and bring no benefits whatsoever towards the local population. It also spoke of slander and bribery – underhanded tactics employed by developers in order to gain easier access to government grants and contracts. MK Land – Barnaby's company – has had the honour of being mentioned as one of those so-called capitalist ogres.

He let out a silent snicker. This person – whoever he was – certainly seemed to know what he was talking about. He'd made citations of seven separate cases within the past fifty years, presenting proof that modern development is destroying cultural tradition. New vs. old. Technology vs. nature. Change vs. conservatism. It's the same argument over and over again.

He looked at the author's name: _T. Kaburagi._ Probably a wizened political science professor living the remainder of his days in the countryside with hopes of some resemblance of peace. People such as this, were the real problem. They'd publish erudite articles disguised as a form of justice piece, fan the ire of the public, and soon enough there'll be online petitions and street protests. Afterwards there'll be a human barrier blocking the work site when the trucks and tractors come rolling in. Police intervention had to be called in, and - after several failed rounds of mediations - there'll be water canons and tear gasses. The image of civillians clashing with the riot police splashed onto the front pages would be enough to paint MK Land into an unfavourable light. Barnaby had to stop that from happening at all costs.

He'd been appointed as the new project assistant. It wasn't a position that assured career longevity – especially where Oriental Town was concerned. Three men had already filled that post, and they'd all left rather abruptly. One suffered a nervous breakdown, while the other jumped off a building. He'd only suffered a broken ankle, but that was already enough for him to tender a resignation letter. Maverick had dropped not-so-subtle hints of his assured promotion as junior project manager should he succeed. The older man had also touched on that other matter of his daughter being head-over-heels in love with Barnaby…

So: it's slay the dragon and win the maiden's hand.

Truth to be told, Barnaby didn't care much about Madeline. She was a flighty 20-year-old, barely out of college. But if playing along with her whims would mean a ticket to the upper echelons of the business, then so be it. It's no secret that he's already the old man's favourite…

It's time that he had a chat with this Kaburagi person. Everyone's got a leverage point…and Kaburagi's no different. It's only a matter of finding out what it was. Then, he'll talk to the local authorities and find this so-called Demon Yanki. The person's most likely a small time crook who liked to talk big game. Doesn't matter - once he'd found out his embarrassing secrets, and pressed him with a very real threat of a legal action, controlling him would be easy.

He'd gotten his first glimpse of Oriental Town when the pilot announced that they're landing. The plane circled over a vast expanse of rice fields before banking for the runway. The stewardess had smiled and wished him a good day as he exited the cabin afterwards.

He switched on his cell the moment he entered the terminal. Signal turned out to be crap. He couldn't even raise a single bar, no matter how high he held up the damned phone. He eyed the public phone, contemplating on calling someone…but couldn't decide on who. He was expecting a driver to pick him up, but judging from the sparse crowd milling about outside the arrival lounge, it seemed as if he's on his own for now.

He clicked his tongue in irritation. Talk about being out in the boonies. This really is the ass-end of nowhere. Even the taxi stand was empty, and the car rental booth was closed. He trudged outside, pulling his luggage along behind him. Barely five minutes in the elements, and his shirt was already sticky from the summer heat. He'd already regretted putting on a suit. Maybe he could flag down a cab out in the main road.

The security guard have been eyeing him for quite some time now. It's probably true what they say about Oriental Town: you rarely see white men here. Barnaby's distaste towards the place intensified. The locals were most likely ignorant hicks with poor grasp of English.

"You looking for cab, sir?" the guard asked. "Wait fifteen minutes, please can you?"

Great. So he speaks like Yoda. Barnaby tossed his head back as haughtily as he could, trying to ignore the fact that his glasses were sliding down his nose due to sweat. "No, thank you. I'll just make my own arrangements."

With that, he trotted away.

* * *

Ivan stared back at his own reflection.

"Would you go out with me?" he said.

He ducked his head, ruffling up his bangs for a more mussed-up look and worked out a sultry expression worthy enough for a K-pop boy band.

"I've had my eye on you for a long time now," he said, angling his voice into a much lower octave. "Would you go out with me this weekend? Oh, you're free? That's fantastic, _de gozaru._ This is shit."

He sagged, muttering under his breath. He began to pace in front of the mirror. How the hell was he supposed to appear cool and awesome? He mussed up his hair, but this time out of frustration.

He reached for his cellphone. Antonio must've mentioned something this morning, for Ivan could've sworn he's forgetting something. He'd usually put in daily notes to remind him of the tasks he was supposed to do for the day. So far there's nothing. He looked outside the window, hearing the crickets screaming in the heat. Maybe he's supposed to wash the car…

The other day he'd aired out the guest rooms after Antonio said he was expecting someone. Dammit, what else did he say after that? He'd repeated it thrice too, just to make sure that Ivan didn't forget. The man's gone off grocery shopping, and usually he'd have to tag along to help carry the stuff. Running a bed and breakfast especially during summertime where it's peak holiday season meant that they have a lot to stock up on.

He shrugged, then resumed his pacing. Whatever it was, he was sure Antonio would mention it again later.

Ten minutes later, the walls shook with his scream.

" _Shimattaaa!_ I'm supposed to fetch someone at the airport!"

* * *

"So what's a _gaijin_ doing way out here?"

"What?!" Barnaby had to shout above the din of techno music reverberating inside the car. The driver reached over to twirl down the volume knob, chuckling deeply as he did so. He'd called himself Ryan, and had offered Barnaby a ride after seeing him drag his luggage along the roadside.

" _Gaijin,"_ said Ryan. "It's the local slang for foreigners. Usually applies to Caucasians."

Barnaby looked at him, taking in his spiky blonde hair, his tattoos, his piercings, and the row of leather bracelets lining his wrist. He couldn't quite make up his mind about the man yet. He'd seemed too loud, too outgoing…and yet was the only person so far who'd shown Barnaby any form of kindness. The surfboard tied to the roof the car was a clear indication on what he does, although Barnaby was currently too tired to ask for confirmation.

"You're white yourself."

Ryan answered with a crooked smirk. "That I am. Guess we're in the same boat, huh? I'm a newbie too. Planning to catch some waves here…and hopefully some babe action. What about you? What brings you here?"

Barnaby looked outside the window, watching the seemingly endless rice fields rolling past. Ryan had apologized for the broken air-conditioning. Barnaby's hair – usually laden with styling products – now stood out in tangles due to the wind and humidity. He's starting to feel like a frumpy lion, and that didn't improve his mood one bit. "Work," he finally said, very curtly.

Ryan tsked. "Work? That's sad, man. I mean, everybody's here on holiday. Why don't you cut loose a bit? You sure look like you need it. What are you…a businessman of sorts?"

Barnaby was aware that his buttoned up shirt and slacks would give him that kind of impression. His necktie had been tossed in the back – along with his coat and luggage. "Kind of," he said.

"Welp, word to the wise: they all have their funny little customs here. Try to respect 'em as best as you can. Nobody would want to be friends with you if you don't."

"I'm not here to make friends."

Much to his surprise, Ryan burst out laughing. "Yeah, that's what they all say. A week from now, you'd be gargling the local dialect like a pro…make no mistake about that. Don't let that whole 'sleepy town' persona fool you. There're lots of decent folk here, and I'll introduce you to all of 'em. Where are you headed, again?"

"The Love Shack Bed and Breakfast."

"Hah! Real fun place. The guy who runs it is pretty solid. "

"Couldn't get a booking anywhere else," Barnaby muttered.

"Well, that's what you get for doing things last minute. I'm guilty of that myself, hehe!"

"Do you know anyone named Kaburagi here?"

"Whoa, wrong guy to ask, man. Told you I'm new here…remember? Altho…that name sounds kinda familiar," said Ryan, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Meh, whatever. So…what's your poison?"

"What's my what?"

"Poison. Y'know, uh….girls, guys, booze, weed…all the good stuff. "

"None of the above," Barnaby said firmly.

Ryan let out a disbelieving huff. "Really! Nah, that can't be. Don't tell me you're all fuddy-duddy and no play."

"I _do_ play. Only not in your sandbox."

Ryan seemed momentarily taken aback by his retort, but then his usual grin slithered back onto his face. "Oi, oi. That's rather mean, don't you think? Is that what you usually say to guys who rescue you from a 39 degrees heatstroke? By the looks of it, you ain't exactly the type who'd stay outdoors for long."

Barnaby bit his tongue. Even Maverick had often commented on his people skills – most particularly the lack of it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's just been a long day, and I'm very tired. But what I'd _really_ like to have right now, is a drink."

"Well, then. You're in luck!" said Ryan, brightening up. "I know _just_ the place. Howsabout we swing by there, grab a quick few, and then I'll take you to your B &B? Sounds good?"

"You seem awfully trusting towards a person you've only met half an hour ago."

"Welp, what can I say? It's always nice to meet another person from Sternbild."

"How'd _you_ know I'm from there?"

Ryan flashed him another one of his Cheshire cat grins. He really should have it patented. "Of course you are. I mean, who isn't? Now wouldja look at that? Beautiful, I tell you. Takes my breath away everytime I see it."

"What?" Barnaby asked, looking out the window again. Ryan had just driven past a stone embankment, and then the scene opened up completely to a panoramic view of the sea.

"Hey, seeing as you just got here and everything, how about you say hi?"

"To what?"

Ryan was already slowing down, shifting down gears as he coasted to the side of the road. They stopped and he took off his seatbelt.

"C'mon," he said, exiting the car.

Barnaby groaned. He _really_ needed to get to the B &B as soon as possible. But Ryan had already rounded up to his side and opened the door for him.

"Just five minutes," he said. "You'll thank me for it."

Barnaby reluctantly got out.

Ryan beamed, spreading out his arms as he walked towards the guardrail. "This. Just look at this. It's absolutely gorgeous. Now _this_ is something Sternbild will _never_ have: magnificent ocean views. Say, d'you do any scuba diving?"

"Heavens, no," said Barnaby, peering over the edge to see what's below. The high tide meant that the water had crept all the way up to the seawall, and he found himself staring at the churning foam beneath him.

He suddenly felt sick.

"Alright, I've seen it. Now can we go?" he said, backing away.

"And here I was, trying to give you a proper Oriental Town welcome," Ryan tsked. "Fine, fine. You're tired and all that. C'mon."

* * *

Ryan managed to slam the car door shut after the second try. He craned his neck to look over the roof. "Well? Is it that bad?"

Barnaby was bent over, inspecting the car's right side front bumper. "Just a minor scrape," he said. "I don't know how much it's going to cost here, but a quick paint job, and she'll be as good as new." He hesitated, regarding the rest of Ryan's car. It was clearly a second – or even thirdhand…bought at bargain bin price from an equally sad used car dealer. "Well – _almost_ as good as new."

"Damn asshole driver, just barging out of the intersection like that," Ryan grumbled. He'd swerved to the right just in time, but ended up scraping against the road divider. "I'm gonna find that jerk and make him pay for my repairs. Good thing I can get a good price at Antonio's."

"Who?"

"Antonio, the Love Shack boss. You're gonna meet him real soon. Also runs a workshop right next door. Sheesh, honestly! It's almost as if the Demon Yanki himself is after that jerk."

It was something that Barnaby discovered much later on, and that was Ryan's tendency to go off tangent at times. "The what? Someone's after Antonio?"

"Huh? No, I was talking about that crazy driver. You haven't heard of the Demon Yanki?"

"Only in passing, yes."

"Bit of an urban legend in these parts, from what I can gather," said Ryan, leading him into what seemed like a bar. "Some folks say he's a gang leader. Some say he's a one-eyed alien. I've also heard people mention that he was a sumo wrestler. I'd say it's some story cooked up by someone who's gone too deep into his _saké."_

" _Irrashaimase!"_

The bartender was wiping down the countertop as he greeted them both. "Ah, you're early today, Ryan-san. You've brought a friend with you. Welcome."

"What, this guy? I've only just met him!" said Ryan, settling onto a bar stool. "Barnaby, Muramasa-san. Muramasa-san, Barnaby. He's new in town, so give him the worst shit you have."

Muramasa nodded politely towards Barnaby. He doesn't seem like a man who smiled much. "Welcome. What will you be having?"

"Beer," said Ryan, before Barnaby could answer. "I had you pegged as a wine type of guy," he shot back at the look Barnaby was giving him. "New town, new tastes. Broaden your horizons, Junior."

Swallowing his annoyance, Barnaby said: "You got a cellphone I can borrow? Mine's dead, and I need to call the B&B to tell them that I'd be arriving late."

"Nah. Tossed mine into the sea long time ago."

Muramasa placed two beers before them. He bent down to retrieve something from under the counter, and came up again with a telephone, sliding it towards Barnaby.

" _Dozo,"_ he said.

"He means, 'go ahead'," said Ryan, taking a swig out of his bottle. "You can use it."

Barnaby stared at the phone. It was one of those antique rotary dial types. It's the first time in his life that he'd ever seen one.

"I can call on your behalf, if you'd like," said Muramasa.

"No, it's fine. Thank you. I think I can manage." Barnaby shot the man a suspicious look as he turned to the task of drying up drinking glasses. It sounded like a veiled rebuke - Muramasa's polite way of saying that Barnaby can't handle ancient technology.

He picked up the receiver, listened for the dial tone, then started fishing into his trouser pocket for the scrap of paper. Luckily enough he had the sense to write the number down. After a couple of false starts (and enduring Ryan's delighted snicker), he managed to dial in the number and waited for the call to connect.

A man answered, and after identifying himself, Barnaby explained his situation. The man cheerfully said that it's not a problem, and he'd still be waiting for his arrival.

Barnaby hung up, nodding his thanks towards Muramasa. He settled down onto his seat and cautiously sipped his beer. It didn't taste too bad. He chugged in more, realizing how thirsty he was.

"Hey, Muramasa-san. We've been wondering about this Demon Yanki fella," said Ryan. "I mean, is he even real?"

Muramasa sedately continued to wipe down glasses. "Yes, the Demon Yanki is real," he said. "But the person is no more. Sometimes it appears. But not as often as before."

"Someone I know was recently beaten up by this individual. You have to agree that he's still around," said Barnaby.

"Heeh, really?" Ryan said to him. Then turning back towards Muramasa, he went on: "Is he really _that_ scary? I mean, the way people talk it's like he has fangs and red eyes or something. What did he do? He was part of a biker gang, yeah? What happened to him?"

"Marriage happened."

"Huh?"

Muramasa nodded. "And a child."

"Wha-? Seriously?! Now I know you're kidding. I mean, for a fearsome urban legend, getting married seemed like…y'know? Not an awesome ending, ya get what I mean? C'mon, I _know_ you're not telling us everything."

Muramasa set down the glass, draped the cleaning cloth over his shoulder, and placed his palms onto the counter, leaning forward as he looked at Ryan squarely in the eyes. "That _is_ everything. However-"

"What? What?" Ryan too was leaning forward in his seat, staring at Muramasa expectantly.

"It would be a great mistake to assume that the Demon Yanki is a 'he'."

The sliding front door slammed open with a bang, causing Barnaby to jump. He then heard the trumpeting bellow of: _"Oniisaannnn!"_

He felt a gust of wind behind him as someone marched past him. The person – a woman – bowled past the counter's swing door, walked up towards Muramasa, and started waving something to his face, immediately breaking into an angry tirade of Japanese.

Muramasa responded in kind, of which the woman slapped that thing onto the countertop and grabbed him by the front of his shirt. She started shaking him and uttered something which sounded like a threat.

Barnaby still had his drink frozen in midair. That thing was a file – dark red with golden embossed lettering. He couldn't read what it said, but a sheaf of papers had spilled out as it landed, along with a photo on top. It showed a neat, half-bald man, bespectacled and wearing a business suit.

Muramasa raised his voice and motioned towards Barnaby and Ryan. That made the woman shut up. She glared at the both of them over the top of her sunglasses. With a huff, she pushed Muramasa away and started to stalk out of the bar. Muramasa shouted something at her, of which she snarled a reply before slamming the front door shut again.

After a beat, a dull thud came from outside, as if someone was punching something very hard.

At the ensuing uncomfortable silence, Muramasa straightened up his shirt. "That," he said, "was the Demon Yanki. My sister Tetsuko."

* * *

 **Up next:** When it really comes down to it **,** all Ryan really wanted...was gummy bears. Plus, Barnaby's second encounter with Tetsuko.


	3. Gaijin and Gummy Bears

AN: It's already October 31st where I am, so...a big birthday shoutout to our Bunny! He should be in his 30s by now.

* * *

It turned out that the little shit who almost drove Ryan off the road worked at the Love Shack. He was the housing staff (currently the only one) – a trembling, 19-year-old thing who'd bowed and apologized profusely at them.

"Ivan," said Antonio. For once, Barnaby was glad he'd accurately put a body to a voice. Over the phone, Antonio had given the impression of a burly Spaniard who works out almost religiously. But he'd seemed amiable enough when he'd finally met Barnaby, clasping his hand into a firm handshake and cordially asking about his flight and whether or not he'd had anything to eat. "So you've managed to not only ding my car, but also scare the living shit out of our guest?"

"It really was an accident, _de gozaru!"_ Ivan all but wailed. "I was in a rush to get to the airport, and I know how it important it was because you've repeated it to me many times yesterday. But I didn't put a reminder in my phone, so-"

"So basically it's all your fault. How much do I have to dock it outta your pay this time? On top of that, you've banged up Ryan's car as well."

"Aw, don't sweat it, boss," Ryan said. "It's just gonna be a quickie paint job. Right?"

Antonio visually assessed the damage. "I don't see any other problems," he conceded. "Just gimme a coupla hours and you'll be on your way."

"Well, so long as she can still run and doesn't explode on me or drive me over a cliff, then I'm cool with that," said Ryan happily. "Er…how much is it gonna cost me?"

"I'll write you up an estimate. But right now I gotta get my guest settled in first. How're you feeling, Mr. Brooks? I can take you to the doctor's if you need any medical help…"

Barnaby shook his head. "Just call me Barnaby. And no – I'm fine. Just feeling a little whiplash."

Antonio nodded. "Real sorry about your first welcome to Oriental Town. Ivan here will be your personal slave for as long as your stay. Right Ivan?"

"Uh…yeah, I guess," the boy muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Now hop to it and bring the bags up to his room!" Turning back towards Barnaby, he said: "Dinner's at 7.30. We encourage our guests to eat downstairs together. Real nice B&B experience if we can mingle with other guests, don'tcha think?"

"I don't see any other guest," Barnaby pointed out.

"Yet," quipped Antonio. "The summer crowd's trickling in, that's for sure. Come next week things'll be busy around here. I'll post up the daily menu on the chalkboard by the kitchen. You're not allergic to anything…are you?"

"No."

"Awesome. Now, if you have any specific requests, you have to let me know at least one day in advance. I'll try my best to make it available. We don't do fast food deliveries, though. The nearest McDonald's or Starbucks is in the next town, and it's about an hour's drive away from here to there."

Ryan let out a low whistle. "An hour just for a frappe. I hope you're not addicted to that crap, Junior."

Barnaby scowled when the man slapped him in the back. This act of familiarity irked him no end – considering that they'd only known each other for a couple of hours. And Ryan's presumptuous manner of baptizing him with a nickname also earned one more negative point against him.

"I need to take a shower," Barnaby curtly said to Antonio. He then turned to Ryan. "Thank you for the ride. Really sorry about your car."

Ryan grinned in response. "Aw, shucks. S'nothing, man. Hey, when all this is done, I'll take you to the beach. We can catch some waves and babes together. Maybe you can hook up with the Demon Yanki herself. Say, 'tonio…didja know that it's Tetsuko?"

Antonio let out a small laugh. "Hah! Haven't heard that in ages. She hates that title, ya know?"

"Well, Junior here's interested in her. I can tell that he's into dangerous women."

"What? That is _not_ true!" Barnaby protested.

Antonio narrowed his eyes perceptively. "Yeah? Whaddaya want with her?"

"Just some business." It didn't take much deduction skill to note that 'Kaburagi Brewery' was the name of Muramasa's bar, and the man himself had confirmed that there was a disturbance a while back which his sister had taken care of. So the author of that article and the Demon Yanki could be one and the same.

"What, you're a lawyer or somethin'?"

"I- no…there's just some things I need to ask her. Look, I'm really tired. Where's my room again?" Barnaby disliked the hard look Antonio was giving him. It's almost as if the older man was trying to decide whether or not he's some kind of troublemaker.

"Right. Sorry. Ivan, could you…?"

"Er, hai! This way, please."

Barnaby followed Ivan upstairs. He snuck another glance towards Antonio, but the man was already deep in discussion with Ryan.

* * *

Tetsuko's phone buzzed. Again.

She took her time pulling it out of her pocket, pressing a button without even looking at the screen.

She needed a smoke, but she'd already reached her daily quota. Her daughter would be really cross if she'd broken her promise.

It's a good thing she'd left the house without her cigarettes, then.

She burrowed her toes in the sand, listening to the roar of the surf. She wished she could just toss her brother into the waves and let him die. The nerve of him, signing her up for an _omiai._ Probably their mother's in on it too, pestering him until he did it just to make her shut up about it. Why, if there's anyone who badly needed a hookup, it'd be Muramasa!

 _Omiai –_ or matchmaking – smacked of desperation. A last ditch attempt of hoping that maybe meeting a complete stranger would bring everlasting joy. Or at least marital and financial stability. Tetsuko had never trusted those things.

But then again, she'd trusted her own path of true love, and look where that got her.

Feh, true love is for chumps. It's all a complete and utter crock of shit.

God, she really needed a cigarette.

The rev of motorcycles and a spotlight swinging towards her made her turn around.

She raised a hand to shield herself from the glare. She could just make out three silhouettes getting off their bikes and sauntering towards her.

"Well, if it isn't the old demon bitch," a female voice sneered.

"What're you doing here all alone, huh?" said a second voice. "Forgot where your house is?"

There was a clanking of chains, and a third person joined them. They were dressed in the same garb – dark blue dusters with their group name embroidered at the back.

Tetsuko bowed her head and let out a weary sigh. Always the same local yanki kids (babies, by her definition…considering how young they started out these days), eager to stake out their turf, and betting amongst themselves who can take down the former yanki leader Wild Tigress. God, she's racking up quite a list of nicknames in this town. It's like a damned girl scout badge collection.

"Hey, kids," she said cheerfully. "I think it's past your bedtime. You got school tomorrow, yeah? Quit worrying your parents and go home, ok?"

The three girls laughed.

"Hear that?" one of them said. "I think _you're_ the one way past your bedtime, grandma."

"Maybe we should put you to sleep permanently. Old dogs get rabies, and I've seen plenty of 'em getting shot before."

The next girl stepped forward. She had a baseball bat casually held in one hand, and she was now swinging it towards Tetsuko's direction. "Let's settle this. Fight us!"

Tetsuko sighed for the second time. She made a show of slowly getting to her feet and dusting the sand off the seat of her pants. She really hated fighting schoolgirls, because that's what they were – girls. There's no glory in fighting bottom feeders. Tetsuko would end up looking like a bully.

No matter how tough these girls acted, or how invincible they thought their weapons were going to make them (Tetsuko fought someone who had nunchuks once. Clearly that person had zero experience with it, and ended up hitting their own ear.), Tetsuko still felt like she's punching her way through a kindergarten of toddlers.

"Alright, single file, then," she said, tilting her neck left and right to work out the kinks. Damn body's getting stiffer by the day. "The one who KO's me gets a lollipop."

She may not get her nicotine fix, but this one is way better.

* * *

The room passed muster, and the toilet was spotless.

Barnaby expected to be conked out right after dinner – he was _that_ exhausted. But the next half hour was spent with him tossing and turning beneath the sheets. He'd always had trouble sleeping in strange beds. Finally he got up, kicking away the blanket in process.

Antonio had given him the best room in the house. A set of double French doors led out to an open-air deck, which overlooked the beach. A flight of stairs linked the deck straight down to the ground floor. Barnaby imagined that sunsets and sunrises here would be breathtaking. He craned his head back and saw a sight that the light- and smog-choked Sternbild could never allow – hundreds of stars, winking like diamonds in a sea of velvet.

He placed both elbows onto the wooden railing and leaned over. Ryan was seated on a patio seat down below, chugging on a can of beer. Their eyes met, and the idiot grinned and saluted at him. He had a lit cigarette pinched between his fingers.

"Yo," he said. "Can't sleep?"

"What're you still doing here? Didn't Antonio fix your car already?"

"Yep, he did that. Figured I'd chill for a bit before heading back."

"And where's that?"

"My own love shack. It's a magical kingdom where I serenade impressionable young ladies with my ukulele and a bag of Cheetos."

"Yeah, well…good luck with that."

"C'mon down, man. My neck hurts just from talking to you."

"No, I think I'm fine where I am."

"Bah, spoilsport. Look, if you get back in, you'll never fall asleep. Trust me on that. So why don't you join me, pop a few, smoke a bit, and before you know it, you'll be off to Lala land."

Against his better judgement, Barnaby found himself walking down the stairs.

"Attagirl," Ryan said approvingly.

"I'm not smoking," Barnaby said, rather firmly.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. You're a freaking boyscout. At least you won't say no to this-" Ryan held out a can of beer.

Barnaby hesitated for the briefest of moments, before taking it.

"Nights here are way better than anywhere else," said Ryan. "A bit too quiet for my liking, but…there's always the beach."

Barnaby let out a disinterested grunt, just to show that he was listening. Ryan was right about one thing – he wasn't exactly a beer kind of guy. But he drank it anyway, just to be polite.

Ryan's constant prattle soon became background noise to him. He looked out to the sea. Even in the near darkness, he could just make out the foam-crested waves breaking over the sand. The heartbeat of the ocean – that's what he could hear…and he found it both soothing and terrifying at the same time.

He felt a nudge on his shoulder. He looked up. Ryan was already on his feet, looking at him quizzically.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said: let's go for a walk," said Ryan. "By the time you get back here, you will fall asleep."

Barnaby made a slight face, thinking that he'd much rather battle insomnia than engage in idle chitchat with Ryan Goldsmith.

"C'mon, you're too tired to sleep. That's the problem. You gotta make yourself even more tired until your body shuts down by itself. You know what might work? You walk, you come back, have a nice long bath, and then poof! Goodnight Junior."

Barnaby groaned as he accepted Ryan's proffered hand. The latter hauled him up to his feet, and they both started walking.

"They might lock me out," Barnaby said, glancing worriedly up at his room.

"Relax, they won't. And if they did, I know where Ivan's room is. We can knock on his window and he'll let you in. So…what's your story?"

"My story?"

"Yeah, y'know…what brought you here? I know you said work, but it can't be all that now, can it?"

"Nope, that's all there is to it."

"You got anyone waiting for you back home?"

"Samantha."

"Ahah."

"My nanny."

Ryan sputtered in surprise. "Your- _what?_ You've still got a nanny at your age?"

"She's been taking care of me for as long as I can remember. My parents are always away because of their jobs."

"Jeez, I can imagine it must be pretty lonely for you. But you've got kids coming over to your place. Like schoolfriends and such…right?"

"I don't really know any other kids. I was homeschooled."

"Seriously? Damn."

"What?" said Barnaby, a tad defensively. Barely five minutes into the conversation, and Ryan was already making presumptions about him.

"I bet I can guess what your type is."

"Type? What type?"

"You like blondes- no, brunettes. Hmm…" Ryan narrowed his eyes, looking at Barnaby perceptively. "No, hair colour doesn't matter, because women tend to change 'em every now and then. No – you're looking for someone with experience. You don't want to have to tell her how to do things. You like to be in charge, but secretly… _secretly_ you want her to be in control sometimes. You have a… _traditional_ view on relationships, which means you expect your woman to take care of you. Well, good luck finding someone like that, bro. In this day and age, it's all 50-50 all the way."

"Are you saying I'm sexist?"

"You _are_ a bit sexist. Admit it. I mean-" Ryan started ticking down points with his fingers, "You're preppy, grew up isolated from the world, and your nanny is your best friend. Ain't exactly rocket science. But sexism is a whole lot like Nazism – you don't talk about it, but it shows…eventually. Look, there's nothing wrong about wanting someone to take care of you. But you gotta meet her halfway, man."

"Whoever said I like women?"

Ryan shrugged, clearly unfazed. "Not judging either way. Rules of relationship still applies regardless. Love and respect…it's a two-way street."

"Pretty rich, coming from someone who's only concerned about his next score. What are you- a psychologist?"

"Hey, I've nothing but the utmost respect for the fairer sex," said Ryan, placing a hand on his chest while the other held up as if he was swearing an oath. But the quirk in the corners of his mouth made Barnaby wonder if he was being serious at all. "No, I'm not a psychologist. I'm even better."

"And what's that?" Barnaby deadpanned.

"I'm an advertising exec. Or… _was._ You wouldn't believe the amount of psychology books I had to read, though. It's my job to find out what _you_ want."

"Did you really toss your phone into the sea?"

"Hah! Yeah. The minute I got here it was just-" Ryan made a swooshing sound, "Goodbye! Sayonara! Splash!"

"Why?"

"Hated my job. That's why. Ain't what it's cracked up to be. You would _think_ that selling people shit they don't need gives you the fuzzies, but nooooo. I left. Just like that. Now it's time I find out what _I_ want."

"And what's that?"

"Right now? Like, _really_ really right now? Hm…" Ryan stopped for a moment, looking out into the blackness of the sea. "Gummy bears."

"What?"

"Yeah, gummy bears! Back at Sternbild, my favourite place to get 'em is at the corner of 5th and Lincoln, over at Bronze Tier. You can't find those here," Ryan sighed wistfully.

"There must be something far more important than gummy bears to make you stay here."

They started walking again. "Yeah," said Ryan. "There is. I just need to figure out what that is."

"When you do, don't bother telling me."

"You're really not the guy people would invite to parties, are you? Hell, I don't think you even go out that much. If that's the case, then you'd fit right in with this town. Why, the only place that I – hold up, what's going on over there?"

"Huh? Where?"

Barnaby saw it then – a commotion of some sort going on not far from where they were. He could just make out three people scuffling in the sand.

"Are they…wait, are they… _fighting?"_ he asked.

"Is that…? Hey, isn't that Tetsuko?" Ryan said, squinting.

"Whoa- hey. What're you doing?!"

"See if I can help, obviously," Ryan tossed back over his shoulder. He was already making his way towards them.

"Are you _nuts?_ Don't get involved!"

But Ryan was already ignoring him. Barnaby held back, torn with indecision. Should he just act like nothing's going on? Should he call the police? Ambulance? What's their number, anyway? That was when he realized that he'd left his phone in his room.

Tetsuko had already put two of the girls out of commission, and she was sitting on top of the last one, pummeling her face. She got up, yanking the girl by the front of her shirt, and held up her fist, poised for another round of punches.

"Who's the bitch now?" she growled.

She pushed the girl away, sending her sprawling back down. Tetsuko picked up the baseball bat, swinging it in one hand as if getting herself ready to bat. The girl immediately scrambled up, gathered her two friends, and scarpered off, leaving their bikes behind.

Still twirling the bloodstained bat, and caught in the headlights of the motorbikes, Tetsuko turned around to glare at Barnaby and Ryan. She looked almost feral, like an angry animal ready to attack anyone and anything. She hissed in pain, bending over to let out a gob of spit. It was tinged with red.

"What're you assholes doing here?" she snapped.

Then flopped face-first into the sand.

* * *

 **Next episode:** The yanki finally meets the gaijin for real.


End file.
